"But next time....I won't stop at door"
His words lingered—heavy, unshaken.
And then—
He let go.
Just like that.
The sudden absence of his grip felt wrong.
Too sudden.
Too empty.
My hands dropped to my sides, fingers still tingling where he'd held them.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
The air between us—tight, stretched thin.
Then Cheng Mo stepped back.
One step.
Two.
His expression had changed again.
Calm.
Composed.
Like nothing had just happened.
Like I hadn't just tried to break my way out.
"Stay here," he said simply.
The words didn't sound like a request.
My chest tightened.
"You're leaving?"
A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes.
"Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."
"I'm not staying here!"
The panic came back instantly.
Sharp.
Real.
I moved toward him—but he was faster.
His hand caught my arm, stopping me mid-step.
Firm.
Unyielding.
"Shu Lin."
My name, low and steady.
A warning.
I froze.
Just for a second.
And that was enough.
His grip tightened slightly before loosening again—like he was reminding me how easily he could stop me.
"Don't make this harder than it already is."
"Then don't lock me in!"
My voice cracked despite me trying to hold it steady.
His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary.
Not soft.
Not cruel.
Something in between.
Then—
He reached into his pocket.
The faint metallic sound of keys shifting made my stomach drop.
No.
"No, Cheng Mo—"
Too late.
He stepped back.
Out of reach.
"Stay."
One word.
Then he turned.
And walked out.
The door opened—
Light spilling in for just a second—
Hope.
Freedom.
Gone.
Click.
The sound echoed through the apartment.
Loud.
Silence followed.
Thick.Heavy.
I stood there, unmoving.
Waiting.
For footsteps.
For hesitation.
For him to come back.
Nothing.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe seconds.
I couldn't tell anymore.
My chest rose too fast, the quiet pressing in from all sides.
"No…"
The word came out barely audible.
I moved suddenly—
to the door.
Pulled the handle.
Again.
Harder.
Nothing.
Locked.
Of course it was locked.
A hollow laugh escaped me—sharp, disbelieving.
"This is insane…"
My hands pressed against the door, forehead resting against the cold surface.
Trapped.
Actually trapped.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
Physically.